


Borrowed Time

by ChloeWeird



Series: Timing is Everything [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Angst, Child Abandonment, Domestic, Fear, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 21:58:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6257473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChloeWeird/pseuds/ChloeWeird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles gets a harsh reminder that their son wasn’t always theirs...and that Teddy’s family was never located.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Borrowed Time

Eddie was one of the most easy-going dogs Stiles had ever known. That being said, he hadn’t been on friendly terms with that many dogs in his life. The Stilinski family had never had pets, and the only animal the McCalls had ever owned was an old cat who’d run away from Stiles every time she’d seen him. Their first meeting had been less than successful, but Stiles thought she’d overreacted. She’d looked like a million bucks in that green paint. 

Lydia’s papillon, Prada--may she rest in peace--was the only dog he’d ever associated with on a regular basis, but even she hadn’t been a regular fixture. She’d been fun to coo at when he stopped by Lydia’s place in high school, but too fragile and high maintenance for the kind of love Stiles had to give. 

Eddie, though...he could take it, and dish it back out again. He was sufficiently wary in new situations or when meeting new people that Stiles didn’t worry that he’d be easily dognapped, or something, but once someone gave him a treat? He was their biggest fan for life. 

From the stories he’d heard about dogs losing their mind in fear at the vet, Stiles had been expecting a fight. Eddie wasn’t due for his yearly check up for a while, but he’d been chewing his paws and scratching more than normal, so he decided that stopping off at the vet’s wasn’t a bad idea. Google had informed him that it wasn’t uncommon for golden retrievers develop allergies. 

Eddie clearly remembered the office from the last time they’d brought him in, and recalled how many pieces of disgusting dehydrated liver he could get if he was good. The appointment went smoothly and quickly, fortunately. The part that took the longest was parading Eddie around the clinic so that all of the vet techs could give him a lengthy hello cuddle. Scott was no help, once he’d pronounced Eddie healthy, but allergic to either chicken or wheat. 

“It isn’t busy today, why shouldn’t they take their time?” he said, after the prescription for some anti-itch meds had long been filled out. Stiles didn’t have any place in particular to be, so he rolled his eyes and tapped his foot theatrically, but everyone knew he didn’t really mind. 

“Before I forget, Stiles,” Scott said, quietly, when the office staff were distracted by Eddie, “Deaton left something in his office that he wanted Derek to look at. A bowl, I think. He says it might be part of a set that belonged to Talia.”

“Oh, cool. I was going to walk home, but I can get him to swing by. Teddy’s with Grandpa today. They’re having a tea party.”

Scott nodded, impressed. “Lucky them. The door’s unlocked, if you want to wait there for him. I think Ed’ll be fine out here.”

Eddie was currently on his back under the desk in a belly rub-induced coma. He’d clearly reached doggy nirvana, and Stiles wasn’t about to interrupt, so he left him in their capable, ear-scritching hands. Deaton’s office had better cell reception anyway, for reasons Stiles could never figure out. Anywhere else, he had to hold his phone up to the window. 

Stiles let himself into the small room and closed the door. Scott had told him it was unlocked, but that wasn’t shocking information. Stiles was pretty sure the door had a spell on it that subtly repelled anyone who wasn’t invited in. Otherwise, the creepy artifacts and books about the occult would have made at least one perky new vet tech rethink her choice of employer. The books, or the half empty cereal bowl that looked like it would need its first round of shots soon. Yuck. 

Deaton didn’t actually spend much time in his office anymore. Since Scott had taken over most of his roster, he’d been travelling more and advising less. Stiles would be happy for him and his early retirement, if he’d been of any help whatsoever when Beacon Hills had actually been a dangerous place. But that was all water under the bridge. Mostly. 

Stiles’ phone went off with Derek’s promise to be there in a couple of minutes. He was just at the house, supervising the installation of some new wiring. Derek didn’t actually know anything about wiring, but he didn’t much like the idea of a bunch of strangers alone in his den. Stiles would’ve thought Derek would be more used to it, considering the amount of construction workers that had been in and out of their house for the past three months, but that was werewolves. Territorial as all get-out, even over the plastic _Cars 2_ cups Stiles had handed out with cold water. But even Derek knew they’d be fine for 15 minutes by themselves, so Stiles settled into the surprisingly uncomfortable lumbar-supportive chair to wait.

The desk was a disaster area. Partially full water bottles, pens of all different colours and reams and reams of paper covered almost the entire surface area. It wasn’t like Stiles had much room to judge, but at least his office was an _organized_ chaos. Stiles had piles of paper too, but at least they were stacked, not flung willy-nilly everywhere. It was infuriating, and it made Stiles’ fingers itch to collate and alphabetize. Deaton wouldn’t mind if he straighten up just a bit, right? Probably. Maybe. Stiles decided he didn’t care. 

Within a couple of minutes, Stiles had started two distinct piles. Pile Number One: Emissary. Pile Number Two: Veterinarian. The system was working pretty well for him, though he spent a good few minutes deciding where to put an invoice for 10 pounds of high quality turmeric. (He eventually chose the Vet pile, since Google informed him it was supposed to be a good anti-inflammatory for pets.) 

On the corner of the desk, balanced in between the lamp and the cup of pens, there was an email, dated a couple weeks ago, from someone in the network of supernatural gossip-mongering. Stiles sighed and added it to the Emissary pile. He hadn’t yet been able to convince Deaton that the point of email was that you didn’t have to print them out to share them or keep them filed away. 

He almost moved on to the next area of the desk, but the subject line caught his eye. “URGENT: CODE AMBER,” it read. Deaton had told Stiles all about the colour code system the network used, but Stiles had given up trying to remember them by Code Aqua, (Kelpie sighting) not to be confused with Code Turquoise. (Mermaids getting frisky.) 

Code Amber. He remembered that one, because the meaning was so similar to Amber Alert. It meant Missing Child. Stiles picked the paper back up and scanned the whole page, feeling like the room had gotten colder all of a sudden. 

It was an all points bulletin--with a picture attachment which Deaton had stapled to the back--sent by the alpha from a sparsely populated area of upper Canada. Most of the pack lived remotely, and one of the pack’s betas had failed to inform the alpha that a child in their family had gone missing. A boy, who hadn’t been seen in over a year, Stiles read, and his stomach twisted. The alpha went on to explain that she suspected another family member was at fault for the disappearance, and that was why it had taken them so long to send out a digital search party. Pack justice could be fast and brutal, and there was no lying on the witness stand when your alpha could scent the stink of guilt a mile away. 

The paper slipped from Stiles’ fingers, and he backed away from it like it had grown teeth and had already wounded him. He bumped into the hard metal shelves against the wall, then sank to the ground, gripping his knees with bloodless hands. He was breathing fast, way too fast, he knew, but he couldn’t stop it. He hadn’t had a panic attack in years, but he was well on his way to one now. 

They hadn’t kept Teddy a secret. It would have killed them if someone had come forward with his identity, but it would have been despicable of them to keep him from loving parents. The Sheriff had scoured the missing children databases. Deaton had sent one of his own bulletins to emissaries all over the country, informing them that an unknown juvenile werewolf had turned up in Northern California. No one had responded. They’d thought they were in the clear. 

They went through as many official channels as they could to make Teddy legally their son, but what if this negligent pack was missing him? What if Stiles’ baby was actually _theirs_ , and they had all the right in the world to take him back? Stiles’ throat closed up completely at the thought of Teddy in a car, driving away from them to his old family, forever. Teddy would cry. He wouldn’t remember the pack, he hadn’t even been three years old yet when he’d ended up in the shelter. He’d bang on the windows and scream for his daddy, but Stiles could do _nothing_ \--

The door banged open and Derek’s voice penetrated the fog of panic, but not enough that Stiles could hear the actual words. He was on his knees in front of Stiles, speaking urgently and moving Stiles’ hoodie out of the way. Checking for injuries, Stiles realized, but Derek wouldn’t find the wound anywhere on Stiles’ skin. Stiles closed his eyes and tried to take a few short, gasping breaths. Derek’s questions started to trickle through. 

“Stiles, what’s wrong? What is it?” Derek asked. 

Stiles couldn’t get enough air to answer verbally, but the paper he’d been looking at had fallen to the floor near Derek’s knee, so he waved in that direction. Derek grabbed Stiles’ quaking hand, and kept it while he reached for the paper. Stiles could feel the moment Derek clued in the same way he had, because Derek’s hand tightened painfully around his. Stiles watched Derek’s face go pale, then tugged his hand back and covered his face with it when he could no longer watch. 

This would break Derek. He’d lost so many people, parents, siblings, friends. To lose a child, just shy of a year after he’d found him...Stiles didn’t know if even he could pick up those pieces. Stiles grabbed two thick handfuls of his hair and pulled, craving the distraction of pain. Should they have looked harder for Teddy’s pack, all those months ago? Would this be as difficult if they hadn’t been so sure right away that Teddy wasn’t wanted anywhere else? 

“Stiles.”

No, Stiles decided, as a sob tore from his throat. Nine minutes, Stiles had told Melissa. That was how long it took them to fall in love with their gentle boy, and his sweet brown eyes that were always sparkling with a smile. It wouldn’t have mattered if his family had claimed him a week after they’d met, it still would have hurt this much. 

“Stiles, look.”

God, it hurt. The idea that there would come a day that he would never hold Teddy in his arms again tore at him more viciously than any of the monsters they’d killed or run off. 

“It isn’t Teddy. It’s a teenager, a runaway.”

A wet hiccup got caught in Stiles’ throat. “What?”

“Look, there’s a picture.” Derek handed him the paper, flipped to the second page, and Stiles looked at the poster the Canadian alpha had made, with the words “Have you seen me?” written large across the top. The picture was of a boy, maybe 15 or 16, with a grudging smile and an awkward haircut. It wasn’t Teddy. _It wasn’t him._

“That’s right,” Derek said, rubbing Stiles’ arms from shoulder to elbow. Gently, like he was trying to warm him up, but was afraid he’d crack like thin glass. “It’s not Teddy.” 

“Not Teddy.”

“No. We’re fine. We’re totally fine.” 

The terror and heartache drained out of Stiles so fast his head spun, and he slumped over even more, his limbs jellylike with relief. Derek wrapped him up tightly in his arms, and Stiles could hear Derek’s shaky breath in his ear. The tears he hadn’t shed because his body was too busy being scared to be sad started to fall, and were soaked up instantly in the cotton of Derek’s shirt. He felt dampness on his own neck, and he hugged Derek harder. Derek almost never cried. He’d gotten a lot better at communicating and letting himself feel things he’d thought he didn’t deserve to feel, like hurt, regret, or even simple happiness, but he still didn’t like anyone to see him like that. Stiles put his hand on the back of Derek’s neck and squeezed as hard as he could with his weak limbs, and he felt Derek shudder against him, and relax nearly imperceptibly. 

Their tears ran out eventually and Stiles pulled back, far enough that he could see Derek’s face, but they were still wrapped up in each other. Stiles wanted so badly to breathe out all the anxiety from the last five minutes and breathe in clean air, knowing that his son was still his, but he couldn’t get his one-track mind off this particular worry. 

“What if we’ve been fooling ourselves, Derek?” Stiles whispered, too raw still for anything louder. “Is someone going to come out of the woodwork one day and want him back?”

Derek’s eyes flashed blue, and his face tensed in a deep frown. “No one came looking for him. You remember, Stiles, we put out a bulletin just like this one when we found him, and not a single person came forward. No family members, friends, anyone who would have recognized him. And you and your dad spent days looking for a missing kid that matched his description. No one even reported his disappearance.” 

“That’s what we thought, but what if something like this happens again?” Stiles tossed the paper away from them, and it landed with the boy’s picture facing up. 

“Look, Stiles.” 

Derek pulled out his phone from his pocket and opened up his photos. Derek didn’t take any selfies, or pictures of his food when they went out to dinner. All he had were pictures of Eddie’s sleeping face that he sent when Stiles was away from home, and ones of Stiles making stupid faces when he managed to steal Derek’s phone. He also had about a million pictures of Teddy. Smiling ones, sleeping ones, ones where Teddy was about two seconds away from tantrum.

Some of the most recent pictures were of Teddy’s fourth birthday party, from two weeks ago. Ted’s age was approximate, and they had no way of knowing when he’d actually been born, but they’d chosen a date themselves, and that’s what was on his birth certificate, so that’s the date they threw a huge bash in the party room of the bowling alley. 

Which date to choose had been the subject of debate. Derek’s first suggestion had been to pick one at random. Stiles had immediately fought for halloween. They’d polled the pack, and Googled most popular birth months, and eventually, they’d decided on one that suited everyone. They picked Claudia Stilinski’s birthday. Stiles’ dad had teared up when they told him, and had understood why they’d chosen it. It had always been a hard day for their family, sometimes even worse than the day she’d died. On her birthday, they always remembered her as vibrant and happy, not a shrunken husk of their beloved wife and mother. Derek and Stiles wanted to make new memories, that would live alongside the nice ones, and turn it into a day they looked forward to, rather than one they dreaded. Claudia wouldn’t have wanted anyone to mourn on the day of her birth, so they’d decided not to.

In the pictures Derek flipped through, Teddy was surrounded by his pack. Stiles had discovered a couple of years ago that one of the filters on Derek’s phone got rid of the eye flash problem. (None of them could ever figure out why, but they were too thrilled to have some family photos come out well to question it.) Everyone had taken a snap with the birthday boy, smiling ear to ear as they posed. Teddy had been sticky all over and happily exhausted when they got home. It had been one of the best days in recent memory, and definitely the best anniversary of Claudia’s birth since she’d died. 

“We’re his family,” Derek said, fiercely, when he reached the last picture, a group shot of everyone clustered together. “ _We_ wanted him, we love him, and I’d like to see anyone try and take him away.”

Stiles took the phone and swiped back through all the pictures, grinning at Teddy dropping food on his shirt, and Scott groaning over still being terrible at bowling. He let the memories of the day calm him and chip away at the cold ball of dread in his stomach. He wiped away the remnants of the tears on his face and nodded, jerkily. Derek pocketed the phone, then brought Stiles in again for another embrace. 

Eddie suddenly burst into the room, looking frantic. He barrelled into them, licking at any skin he could find and whining, distressed. Stiles and Derek unwound themselves and lavished him with cuddles, letting the tension drain away with every second they spent on the floor of Deaton’s office with their hands buried in soft blond fur. 

The worry was still there. Stiles didn’t think he’d ever fully let go of the fear that someone would want to take Teddy away, not until the day he turned 18 and could unequivocally choose which family to keep and which to shun. But until then, Stiles let the knowledge of one thing keep the fear at bay: If someone did come for Teddy, they’d be in for a hell of a fight.

**Author's Note:**

> Next fic in this series will be a bit longer, and will probably start posting on the 15th of March. :)


End file.
